


It's peaceful in the deep ('cause either way you cannot breathe)

by Elisexyz



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s02e10 Chinatown, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 08:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20094385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: By the time Lucy manages to calm herself down enough to stop sobbing, he’s probably about to lose sensibility to his damn arm.





	It's peaceful in the deep ('cause either way you cannot breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> I found this buried in my pc <strike>poor thing</strike>, I thought I'd share.  
  
Public service announcement: Flynn's wound in Chinatown confuses me because it kinda looked like a 'I just piecerced your lung' chest wound, buuuut here I'm just making it a shoulder wound anyway for my own convenience.  
Title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNKbeV3wM84).

By the time Lucy manages to calm herself down enough to stop sobbing, he’s probably about to lose sensibility to his damn arm. He’s good at ignoring pain, but he’d better take a look at that injury as soon as possible or this mission is going to end with _two_ corpses, and nobody needs that right now, least of all Lucy.

“Better?” he asks, barely above a whisper, and she sniffs, her fingers gripping his jacket tighter as if she was reflexively trying to pull him closer – he’s not even sure that they _can_ get closer than this to begin with, to be honest.

“Sorry,” she finally says, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

He could argue that, but they are both perfectly aware that they are just empty words, so he lets it go under the assumption that she doesn’t need a lecture on honesty right now.

It’s Lucy who pulls away from him, if reluctantly, her hand going up to touch her throat as if to make sure that it still works.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, which is probably a stupid question because she’s most likely hurting all over, but he’d rather not leave her alone to overthink how shitty their current situation is. Hell, _he_ has his stomach tied in knots after all this, and he neither was that close with Rufus nor he had to witness his mother’s death today. So, no, Lucy’s mind probably isn’t the best place for her to be in right now.

“It’s—” she begins, but the words die in her throat as soon as her eyes fall on him. Or, more precisely, on the gaping hole in his shoulder. “You are _bleeding_,” she says, her voice raising with each syllable. She sounds more than a little hysterical, and the panic is written all over her face as she moves forward, her trembling hands uselessly reaching for his arm even if she doesn’t actually touch it.

“I know,” he says, putting an effort into sounding calm and soothing. “I’ll be fine, I just need to patch it up.”

“_You are bleeding_,” she repeats, sounding, if possible, even more panicked, and raising her wide eyes to stare at his face, her expression almost pleading. He has no idea what exactly she needs from him right now, though.

“_Yes_, I am aware,” he repeats, and maybe it comes off a little more annoyed than he intended, but the hammering pain doesn’t help with his nerves, and Lucy drawing attention to it isn’t doing him any favours either. He takes a brief breath, silently reminding himself to make better use of his brain-mouth filter. This is not the time to be snappy. “I promise, it’s not that bad,” he adds, gentler.

She gives a quick nod, her eyes moving around way too fast for him to guess what she’s trying to find, until she finally resolves to take off his tie and attempt some bandaging that leaves him unable to contain a couple of pained hisses, which causes her to apologize over and over under her breath.

When he eventually thanks her, she still looks on the verge of a panic attack, which is all sorts of bad, if understandable.

“Maybe you should lay down a minute,” she lets out. She’s keeping a solid hold on his good arm, as if she believed him in need of the support to sit straight.

“We should go back,” he counters. “I can walk.” That brings a fresh wave of panic on her face, and she grips him tighter. Okay, then. “With some help,” he amends. “Can you help me get up?”

That seems to do it: she contemplates it for a second, then she nods and visibly takes a grip, looking instantly more stable as she rises on her feet and helps him do the same. She manoeuvres his good arm to have it rest on her shoulders and she slides her arm around his waist, throwing a last apprehensive look at his face and waiting for his nod before proceeding.

Even if the request for help has been mostly for Lucy’s sake, he can’t deny that he’s probably better off not trying to run away on his own again. He does try to support most of his weight himself, but he’s leaning on her way more than he had anticipated.

They are half-way down the corridor when Wyatt comes from around the corner, screaming Lucy’s name.

“Are you okay?” he asks, apprehensively, his eyes scanning all the blood on her face.

“Just some bruises,” she claims, dismissively.

Wyatt nods, looking still pretty on edge. His eyes move to Garcia. “You?” he asks, eyeing the improvised bandage.

“I need some patching up but I’ll live,” he says, lightly.

“Is Rufus…?” Lucy intervenes, her voice thin. They all know the answer, but he can understand why she needs to ask before _seeing_.

Wyatt’s eyes fall to the ground and he just shakes his head.

Garcia feels Lucy tensing against him, and he squeezes her shoulders in silent support. Her hold on his waist tightens a bit and he feels her fingers sinking into his side.

“I can—” Wyatt offers, gesturing vaguely towards them, probably to indicate that he wants to volunteer as Garcia’s walking steak.

“I got him,” Lucy replies, quickly. Her voice sounds steady and collected, if a bit hoarse.

“Are you sure?” Wyatt insists, but she doesn’t even consider it.

“Let’s just go and get some stitches,” she says, resolutely, and Wyatt ends up nodding and leading the way, without bothering to wait for them – it’s probably good, because Jiya alone with her dead boyfriend isn’t a good scenario.

They keep walking in silence, and when they reach Wyatt, busy trying to talk Jiya into letting go of Rufus – they can’t really afford to carry him away, they need to make a quick escape to the lifeboat hoping that Emma doesn’t have any agents hiding around and waiting to jump them, not to mention that they only have room for four –, Lucy stiffens against him. He sees her turning away from the image, and the only thing he can think of doing is squeezing her arm to remind her that, shitty as the situation may be, she’s not alone in this and they can work on fixing it. He has no idea _how_, but at the very least they can bring Rittenhouse down to the ground.

She glances at him, her eyes filling with tears that she quickly pushes back as Wyatt stands, holding Jiya by the arm, and announces: “Let’s go.”

The guy may be a giant dick-head, but Garcia is insanely glad that he’s keeping his head straight in all this.

When they get to the Lifeboat – without further incident, fortunately –, they don’t jump immediately: Jiya probably needs a minute to collect herself, and Garcia needs some patching up. Wyatt volunteers, and Lucy has nothing to object, but she doesn’t move away, her arm pressed against his healthy side as she tries to make herself useful by holding the kit and handing Wyatt what he needs.

Everything is done in almost complete silence, and the oppressive atmosphere pushes against his ears and doesn’t offer a good distraction against the pain – no matter how many times he’s found himself in a similar situation, it still _sucks_.

“Done,” Wyatt announces, as soon as he’s helped him into a sling. Garcia offers a nod instead of a thank you, because he’s pretty sure that if he decided to open his mouth he’d end up spilling out the long list of curses that he’s been holding back throughout the whole thing.

As Wyatt moves away to ask Jiya if she’s ready to jump and gets a dry ‘Yes’ as an answer, Lucy keeps looking at him like he’s about to fall over any second, and she doesn’t seem to want to move to her seat.

“I’m not dying,” he reminds her, trying to keep his voice as low as possible and successfully ignoring the throbbing pain radiating through his arm.

She seems caught off guard for a second, before she starts nodding quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I—I know.” She still waits until Wyatt is seated to move at all: she bends over to buckle him in before he can even attempt to, offering a small smile in response to his blatantly grateful one – he probably would have _tried_ to buckle in at some point, and odds are that it would have been unsuccessful _and_ painful as hell –, before getting settled on the seat next to his.

He’s not sure if their hands brushing together as they jumped was a product of his imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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